


Revolving Doors

by Zoe__eoZ



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26443063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoe__eoZ/pseuds/Zoe__eoZ
Summary: When John B has finally had enough and tries to help JJ against his abusive dad, things are going sideways. So much so that they need their friends to come through for them.JJ and John B are the best of friends, but what truly holds them together, is Kie. And Pope.A tale of friendship.Warnings apply for semi-graphic abuse and language.
Relationships: JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Revolving Doors

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> Trying my hands at a (first) Outer Banks fic. I haven't watched the last two episodes yet (gah!), but I'm obsessed already. Unfortunately it might be awhile before I'll get around to those last two episodes.
> 
> So, apologies if someone's already written something similar. I couldn't read the fics on here yet for fear of encountering spoilers. I can't wait to get reading though. In the meantime, I'll write.
> 
> It's a lot of abuse and pain and friendship (I'm a sucker for John B and JJ friendship stuff), and a hint of KieJJ.

* * *

…

It's two at night when John B hears the frantic banging against his door, and he's up in seconds. It's not the first time this has happened, and since his dad vanished without a trace almost a year ago, it's become something of a weekly thing.

Grimacing, he makes his way to the door. When he opens it, JJ trickles in like a drop of water, his arms wrapped around his middle. When he lifts his head a bit, John B can see the discoloration forming on his poor friend's cheek, drying blood crusting his eyebrow and nose, and he scrunches up his face in sympathy, a lump forming in his throat.

He wants to say—again—that JJ needs to tell someone. But with all his own issues with DCS, he understands why JJ doesn't want to. The system won't help them.

Then again, JJ's father is dangerous, while John B's is (was ...) just neglectful.

"You can have the bed," he says, flopping down on the couch himself, knowing better than to play the nurse, unless JJ asks him to.

They have a silent agreement. Don't comment on any breakdowns, tears, bruises unless they give some kind of signal that they really do need help, or a shoulder to cry on.

It's generally understood that is not the case, and when it is, they're usually lucky Kie is there to deal with it. With them …

This late, of course, she's asleep in her own home, and when John B hears JJ's muffled crying coming out of his bedroom sometime later, he has to clench his jaw and curse JJ's dad for how he treats his son, curse the silent agreement, too.

Half an hour in, and he's had enough. Getting up again, he goes over to the bedroom, standing in the door frame for a minute or so before he works up the courage to speak up.

"He's an asshole, man," he mutters, his voice quiet, but loud enough in the calm of night that JJ's sobbing ceases. "Your dad deserves to go to prison for this. Maybe it's time—"

"No." The word is sharp, brokering no argument, and John B backs off again. He's not going to argue. Though maybe he should.

"JJ …"

"You know better than anyone that they'll just send DCS for my ass. At least this way I know what I'm dealing with."

"He's gonna kill you one of these days, man. You can't continue on like that."

There. He said it.

JJ's betrayed look makes his insides churn.

"If you want me outta here, John B, just say so. Don't pussy around, going on about my asshole dad."

JJ gets up again, awfully slowly, and in the dim light of the moon shining through the window, John B can see the marks on his best friend's upper body. He presses his lips together, fighting the urge to curse and run toward his friend and wrap him in a soft embrace, like Kie would do, if only she was here.

"Nah, man. Not what I meant," he says instead. "Let's just go to bed and sleep on it, yeah? Sneak some food at Kie's in the morning?"

After a beat, JJ nods, his eyes gleaming in the dark, his teeth finally flashing.

"Sounds good," is all he says, then he clambers back into bed, and John B … slips away into the shadows of his house again, unable to sleep for a very long time.

* * *

…

JJ's in the middle of eating a shitty lunch, when the sound of frantic banging on his door makes his stomach turn into a too tight knot. His dad better not have lost his keys again on his latest drunken stint.

He better not be drunk at friggin 1 pm …

"What," he starts as he opens the door, going for "bored casual," but when he sees John B, shaking and breathing way too fast, he moves to the side to let him in without another word.

His friend rushes past him, instantly pacing, ruffling up his own hair in a show of what JJ knows is desperation. Only, normally John B is better at hiding it.

"Beer?" he says, pretending all is fine, at least until John B gives him a cue that it's not.

His friend doesn't acknowledge the offer, just keeps pacing. Then he storms over to the door, then the windows, peeking out through all of them.

"You in trouble with the cops or something? Should I be worried?"

John B's eyes look haunted. That's not good, but nothing new. They've been friends for a damn long time, and both of them have carried around a host of demons since day 1. JJ's have just been a little more obvious, and physically painful—while John B's have scarred him in subtler ways.

"John B? C'mon, man."

"Can I stay here for a bit?"

JJ's eyebrows rise up high. This is some role reversal type development he hasn't seen coming.

"Here?" he asks. "At this shit hole?"

"Please?"

John B isn't one to beg. Neither is JJ. He's also not one to ask questions.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever. Just … my dad might be back later." That should make John B realize that this place really isn't one where anyone would want to stay. Not voluntarily.

But his friend only nods, then keeps pacing for a while longer. Until JJ finally manages to push that beer on him.

"Weed'd be better, but I ran out."

He grins, but John B doesn't say anything. At least he sits down, slouching into the couch with the weariness of someone on the run. Which of course he is. JJ presses his lips together, shaking his head to himself.

"DCS after you again?"

John B meets his gaze for what must be the first time since he got here.

"They … um … found Uncle T," he says, his voice shakier than JJ has ever heard it, and he sits up straighter, shooting his friend a worried glance. "He's dead, JJ. Tortured by the looks of it."

By the looks of it? JJ can only hope that John B didn't have to see the body. Swallowing around a lump, he slumps back down, trying to think of something to say.

"Now what?" That wasn't very eloquent or helpful at all. But John B doesn't seem to mind or notice. "They gonna put you in foster care for real?"

"Police custody. For my own 'protection,'" John B air-quotes, a flicker of disgust crossing his features. "I can't do this, JJ. I can't …"

"No worries, man. You've gotten away for this long. We'll make sure they won't find you. I mean, you chose the perfect hiding spot. No one's ever gonna come looking for you here. Would be too easy, checking on a household where an abusive asshole lives." He chuckles, but it's devoid of humor, and John B doesn't chime in, not even for a second. JJ sobers again, patting the couch for the remote. "Wanna watch some shitty daytime TV? If the old man remembered to pay for it, that is."

And that's what they do, until the sun sets and it grows dark, and his stomach begins rumbling because he hasn't had enough food all day. He'd like to go out, go surfing, hound Pope and Kie for company and snacks. But he knows better than to leave John B alone. He can't do that, not when his father could be home any second, not when someone's out to get his friend, DCS if they're lucky, or the police. Or someone way worse …

So JJ sucks it up and does what John B has done for him many times and just sits and waits with him.

* * *

…

"What's going on, guys. Open up!" Pope bangs the door of John B's home, Kie waiting next to him, hugging herself.

"They're not there," she says, nudging his arm. "Let's try JJ's."

Pope frowns at her, not convinced it's a good idea.

"You think that's where they are? With that shithead dad of his?"

She shrugs.

"If they're not here and not at the beach, and John B wasn't with Sarah, they're either at JJ's or they're in deeper trouble than we thought."

She has a point. Something is going on, and they don't know what it is. But ever since Pope has seen the marks on JJ's body, it's been working in his mind. JJ has always shown blemishes of some form. His father was never careful enough to keep away from the poor boy's face. But up until recently, Pope was able to tell himself that JJ being JJ just triggered Luke, and that the occasional slap combined with JJ's clumsiness just ended in, well, bruises.

But that was never true. And deep down he always knew it. They all did. They just agreed not to mention it, for whatever reason. (He can't seem to understand it now.)

"Alright," he allows, and they make their way over to JJ's. His place is even worse than John B's, though both of them live so deep in the Cut that it's hardly possible to make such a distinction.

This time it's Kie who knocks. But there is no answer. They try it a couple of times, even go around to peek into the windows. But it's dark inside, the place deserted, and they go to Kie's dad with hanging shoulders, deciding on what to do next.

They better find their two friends soon so they can warn them. The police are out looking for them.

* * *

…

They must have fallen asleep at some point. The remains of a pizza John B paid for with money he should have saved up for something else are sitting on the table. One boy is sleeping on the couch, the other at an awkward angle on the floor, when a harsh thump against the front door shakes them awake.

Wide-eyed, JJ looks over to John B on the ground, a glint of panic in his eyes. If this is his dad, he's fucked. If it's anybody else, John B is probably fucked.

Either way doesn't look good, so they decide to play dead.

When the thumping and knocking stops, they stay frozen for another 30 or 40 minutes before they finally dare move again.

They don't mention it, just shoot each other a glance, then try to go back to sleep.

* * *

…

It's dawning when the door opens with a crash, and John B scrambles up, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Before he has a chance to quite process what's going on, JJ's dad barges forward, with an outstretched arm whipping him out of the way to get to his son.

While John B is still trying to steady himself, Luke has already hurled himself at JJ, grabbing the boy's hair in his hand and slamming his head into the cushions of the couch.

"Stop!"

John B's voice isn't quite working yet, a mere croak making its way out as he stares on in horror, witnessing for the first time the abuse his best friend has to suffer at his dad's hands.

Now Luke is grabbing his son, hoisting him off the couch and dragging him across the living room area.

"Leave him alone!" John B hollers, but it's as if he isn't there.

"What happened to my stash, huh? You drink all of it? Huh? Huh?! Shared it with your white trash friend, that it?"

"Ow," it escapes JJ as he tries to fight his dad off, but when John B rushes closer, ready to hurl himself at his friend's dad, JJ shoots him a warning glance and shakes his head.

"You two have a little party here? Going through my stuff while I was out? He intend to pay for any of it? Huh? And you? Stupid useless piece of shit! Can't leave you alone one fucking time!"

With every swear word, JJ's head connects with the wall next to him, then, when Luke readies himself to use his fists, too, John B has had enough.

"Don't," JJ hisses when he sees John B moving, but he's not gonna sit idly by and see his best friend being turned into a pulp.

He comes rushing toward the father and son, grabbing Luke by the neck, the arms, trying to get him off of JJ. But the man is a mean drunk, and much stronger than he looks, than should be possible, and with a sideways move, he manages to shake John B off, slamming his body into the kitchen counter.

With a grunt, John B slumps to the ground, his head ringing now—though surely not as much as JJ's.

"Stay the hell out of it!" someone yells, and it's not the old man.

John B's jaw clenches, the muscles dancing as he stares at JJ, trying to understand and failing. He pushes himself up again as Luke goes for round three with his son.

No.

Scrambling up as fast as he can, John B lets out a loud yell and jumps on Luke's back, tearing him away. It takes the man a mere few seconds to shake him off again, but this time, John B has really caught his attention.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, huh? Huh?! Assaulting me in my own home?!"

"Leave JJ alone!" he yells back, backing into the kitchen counter as Luke comes strutting toward him, his son now sitting slumped against a wall, barely conscious anymore. One eye is already swelling shut, blood coming out of a cut on his eyebrow (yet another one), his nose looks a mess, marks erupting on his bare arms and torso, but John B doesn't have more time to take his best friend in, to say anything, because Luke is now coming for him, and before he knows it, the man's fist connects with his side. His ribs are protesting. He grimaces, and moves to the side to deflect the next blow. Luke's hand bangs into the kitchen cabinet above his head, and John B's wide eyes bore into the man.

But he's not done yet.

"You want it to be your turn, boy? Be my fucking guest!" Says it and slams his fist against John B's side again, so hard that he sees stars. But it doesn't stop there.

He's trying to fight back, he's really trying, and he gets some good hits of his own in, almost thinks he can somehow beat the much stronger man—when Luke barrels his entire weight straight into him and he bangs against the wall, then hits the corner of the counter as he's going down.

And all goes black.

* * *

…

No.

No no no no no no no.

 _And that's why you don't friggin fight back_ , JJ thinks as he tries to shake his head free of the daze, tries to get back on his feet.

In horror he watches as blood seeps from John B's head, his best friend looking so lifeless where he's lying in a heap on the floor that JJ fears the worst.

"Don't be dead, don't be dead, man, please. C'mon, John B …"

He can't make it to his feet. The dizziness is too much and the world is swimming before his eyes, his body screaming out in too much pain. But he needs to get to John B before his father gets a chance to finish him off completely.

Luke's foot connects with John B's side, once, twice, three times, before JJ has finally managed to—achingly slowly—crawl toward them both and grab his old man by the ankle.

"Stop," he says, unable to scream, barely able to get anything out. "Stop."

Of course Luke doesn't. Well, at least he's redirecting his anger yet again, now focusing back on JJ.

"Playing the good friend now? Alright, you noble asshole, then I'll …"

But he never gets to hear the rest of it, because right then, the door flies open and the air explodes with an ear-splitting bang.

"John B," he mutters, his brain not processing anymore, and he starts crawling again, only half-realizing that his dad has let off of him, is lying on the ground now, sputtering and coughing and … bleeding all over the place.

Oh god …

* * *

…

They went back after sunset. Kie had this feeling. That something was wrong.

"I'm sure they're fine. Cooling off somewhere," Pope said, but she knew it wasn't true. She hadn't been able to reach Sarah, and she didn't take that as a good sign either.

So they went back to JJ's.

And she was right.

Shivering, she stands in the doorway, staring over to where Pope is standing not far from her, the still smoking gun in his hands. He's shaking so hard that the metal rattles, and when she's had a good minute ( _too long, too long)_ to try and catch her breath, try to gain her bearings, she springs into action, unsure where to start.

Or with who.

Her three best friends are all here, and not one of them is doing okay. Far from it.

Scanning the room, she assesses the situation. Then she takes a few careful steps toward Pope, stretching out an arm for the gun.

"Gimme that," she breathes, her face scrunched up with heartache.

"He was … he was going to kill them both. He …" Pope is stammering, his voice breaking at the end, and he falls silent, staring at her out of dark pleading eyes. "Kie … Oh god, I …"

"Shhhh," she makes. "It's okay. It's okay."

But it's not. It really, really isn't. She watches as poor Pope swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing with the movement.

"He's gone now," she soothes, still holding out her hand and trying hard to only focus on him. Block out the carnage right before them. JJ, crawling toward John B, both boys a bloody mess, and beside them … Luke, no longer making a sound, blood lazily seeping out of him. There's a lump in her throat the size of a boulder and it's threatening to suffocate her. "Please."

She's glad she doesn't have to say the word again—gun, that Pope understands and finally hands her the appalling thing. They should have never taken it. Or kept it.

Or used it.

But JJ's dad deserved it, even though she'll have to pretend she didn't just think that thought. It's just …

With a shaky breath, she takes the gun, putting it in her purse for now because she doesn't know where else to put it other than away. Looking up at Pope, it's obvious he's in shock. He keeps staring at their friends, but isn't moving to help.

Gulping, she turns her head, bracing herself to face what she doesn't want to face.

There's JJ. His body looks more battered than she's ever seen it. And he's crying.

JJ doesn't cry, though. He doesn't. Not often, anyways. Only when things are truly fucked up. And tonight, they most certainly are.

Kie steels herself, then nudges Pope's side.

"Come on," she urges him, realizing that it's on her to get anything done. Her three boys are all in different states of non-functionality, not one of them able to make decisions. It's on her alone to try and turn this around, to fix it—if it can be fixed at all.

Pope swallows again, still shaking, but he does take a first step when she moves. She can't stay by his side, though, can't babysit him.

"You need to call the police," she orders him. "And an ambulance."

Make that three …

"Okay," he says, his voice still shaky, and she shoots him a look before she rushes over to JJ and John B, unsure of whom to help first.

"Hey," she whispers, addressing JJ, because John B's eyes are closed. "JJ …" She hunches down to where he's half-lying on the floor, trying to get his legs under him a bit. One of his hands is pressed against their best friend's neck. When he turns his head to look at her, the ache and pain in his eyes makes her breath hitch.

"Kie …"

Her name sounds like the most desperate thing she's ever heard. It's breaking her heart.

"JJ, what happened …" But she knows what happened, at least she can piece it together. She's seen the marks before, heard him cry before. About his dad. But she's never allowed herself to picture what causes them.

Now she knows. She knows too much.

"He tried to help me, Kie. He shouldn't have done that. I told him … I told him he shouldn't—"

"Shhhh, it's alright."

"No." He's sobbing, tears mixing with the blood, and she's not sure she can touch him now, but she moves a hand up to his face anyways. When he doesn't flinch away, just keeps looking at her like she's his anchor in a too stormy sea, she grazes his cheek with her fingers, then cups it.

"JJ …"

"He shouldn't have done it. I … _I_ shouldn't have let him stay here! It's my fault. If he dies—"

"He's not gonna die, okay? You know John B. He's tough. Like you."

He snorts, the sound wet from crying, and it takes everything for her to not start crying, too. JJ needs her. John B does, too. What if she's wrong about him?

Risking a glance at their best friend, she bites the inside of her lip. His face is a grimace of pain. Maybe that's a good sign, she realizes and reluctantly lets go of JJ.

"I need to check on him, okay?" she explains, and JJ nods, clinging to her every word like he needs someone now to make sense of things for him, and decisions. "Will you be okay?"

"Yuh," he croaks out, and she musters a small smile, briefly leaning forward to kiss his forehead, not caring that it's sticky with sweat and blood trickling down from his hairline. "Pope!" she then calls out, and he appears like a shadow beside them, wringing his hands.

"Uh … I … I called an ambulance and and and the cops."

"Can you get JJ some towels? Something to try and wrap his …" She trails off. He looks like they'd need to wrap his everything. Same as John B. Pope shoots her a glance, his gaze then wandering over to JJ, then John B, and he seems to understand.

"I'll be right back," he says and rushes away, leaving Kie with John B and JJ and his dead father. A shiver creeps up her spine, goosebumps traveling across her limbs. Trying her best to pull herself together, she smiles at JJ again, then turns her focus to John B.

Kneeling down beside him, she places both hands against the sides of his face.

"John B? Can you hear me?"

His chest is moving, which she takes to be a good sign, too. He's not dead. But he's taking too shallow breaths, his jaw muscles clamped shut.

"Hey, John B …"

"C'mon, man. Don't do this to me." JJ is leaning over his friend now, so close to Kie that she can feel the heat coming off of him, and she shoots him a quick glance before she returns her focus to her other friend.

She hates that she can't be in two places at once, can't be there for both of them completely. Because they both need her so much right now.

"The towels …"

Startled, she looks up to see Pope with a pile in his hands, his empty gaze staring past her at John B and JJ.

"Thanks," she mumbles, sighing.

All three of her friends need her now. And she doesn't know what to do. So she's doing what a triage nurse would, she's prioritizing in a logical manner, making a life and death kind of decision.

And right now, that means she needs to focus on John B. Or does it? Beside her, JJ is trying to take deep breaths of his own, curling an arm around his midst as it makes him cough. He needs medical attention, stat. Already, she can see the dark bruises forming on his ribcage, his abdomen.

She straightens a bit, placing a hand on John B's chest as she does.

"Can you sit up, JJ? I think your ribs might be broken, and sitting up would help with—"

He's already nodding before she can finish her sentence, and raises himself up a bit, if awfully slowly.

"Pope."

"Right, yeah. Coming." He kneels down next to them, exchanging a glance with JJ.

"I'm so sorry, man, I … I … I," he stammers but JJ stares at him, then shakes his head.

"No. Thank you."

Pope gulps, then nods, then looks away as JJ keeps staring at him.

Kie watches them for a second, watches as Pope sits so JJ can lean against him while he tries to press a towel against his friend's bleeding head.

Right then, she feels the movement from John B's ragged breathing hitch under her touch, and it shakes something awake in her, her brain restarting itself, finally coming out of a weird fog.

"John B? Hey …"

His eyelids flutter open, then closed, then open again, and a genuine smile blooms on her face.

"You scared us."

* * *

…

He looks up at her, this pretty girl he gets to call his friend, and somehow he doesn't know where she just came from.

"What're you doing here?" he asks, his tongue too heavy. He almost feels a bit drunk. But he and JJ only had a couple beers …

JJ.

With sudden panic, he tries to sit up, pain making him hiss as he searches for his friend.

"JJ?"

"Shhhh, easy …" Kie's hand on his chest is trying to push him back down, and he stares at her, wide-eyed, before JJ appears in his field of vision, grinning a bloody grin—but grinning.

"I'm here, man. I'm alright. Do me a favor and don't move, yeah?"

He falls back with a grimace, trying to catch his breath. But it feels like a damn elephant is sitting on his chest. Everything hurts. Is this how JJ feels after his dad has had his way with him?

Not that he hasn't had his own fair share of injuries and freak accidents, but he's never felt this bad before. At least not physically.

He swallows, his mouth too dry and stale after the alcohol from earlier, and when Kie slaps his cheek, if gently, he rolls his eyes at her, wincing involuntarily at the motion.

His head feels like it's about to explode.

"Stay with me," she says, and he creases his brow, wondering what she means. "Open your eyes, John B. Come on."

Did he close them? He doesn't think he did. Maybe … He isn't feeling so hot.

"Can you tell me where you're hurt?"

"Old man got him pretty good," JJ says, "You put up quite the fight, though, man." JJ sounds kind of proud—which is kind of … funny.

"Where does it hurt?" Kie's voice keeps him anchored before the waves of pain can pull him under and away, and he stares at her, stares at her so hard she grows blurry.

"Side," he manages eventually. "Head." He won't win a prize for most concise report, that's for sure. But Kie is still smiling, and strangely, so is JJ, so he'll accept it for now. "Sorry, J," he breathes, but his best friend shakes his head. He feels like he let him down, though. All these years where he didn't do more, didn't help him against his dad. And even when he finally did, it wasn't enough. "You look like shit, man."

Kie shakes her head at his deadpan comment, but JJ laughs until he coughs so hard that John B grows panicky again, and he reaches out to clutch his friend's wrist, not letting go, not even when JJ sobers, not even when Kie places her hands on his face again and smiles a fake smile down at him.

"An ambulance is one the way," she says, and that's when he really starts to panic. The surge of adrenaline makes him bolt up, the world swaying as he comes to sit, and he has to finally let go of JJ so he can press a hand against his throbbing temple.

"John B, stop. You need to—"

"I need to go," he says, trying to get on his feet and stumbling and flailing as he does. And why can't the damn world stop spinning for a second?

"You need an ambulance," Kie hisses. Exasperated, she tugs at his wrist, but she's so gentle he can shake her off easily.

"You don't understand."

"John B."

Frantic, he turns around when he's finally up and standing, scanning the room and … stumbling back against Kie, his eyes widening even more.

Because there, on the floor next to JJ and Pope, lies Luke, rather obviously very dead, with a large gunshot wound in his chest.

Vertigo rolls over him, and he clutches Kie's arm, tearing his gaze away from JJ's dead father to look at her.

"What …"

She grimaces, then shakes her head as she tries to guide him over to the couch. He knows he's leaning way too heavily on her, but he can't breathe, and can't focus, and his legs are about to give out.

"Pope shot him," she finally explains with a gaze back at their friend, and he follows it, looking from an upset Pope to JJ, who is still sitting on the floor, a grin back on his face. But it's not a real grin, not anymore. Tears are gleaming in his eyes, and John B's chest tightens even more.

"JJ, I'm …"

"He had it coming," his best friend says, his tone too flat as he grits out the words. "He almost killed you."

"And you."

"I'm a cockroach. I don't die so easily."

"Will you two stop?" Kie shakes her head at them, lowering John B down onto a sofa chair, and he clenches his teeth and presses an arm hard against his throbbing side so as not to make a noise. "Hey, stay with me."

"Huh?"

Suddenly, she's at eye-level again, kneeling before him, and he makes a face when he realizes he must have passed out again for a few seconds.

"No more getting up, yeah? And I don't care _what_ the matter is this time, why you want to bail again. You need to wait for the damn ambulance and let them check you over."

Her look is so stern that he can only nod, but even that small movement hurts like hell. He feels a sob build up inside of him, he's not sure whether it's because of the pain or what happened with JJ, his feelings of guilt, or maybe even what happened with Uncle T, but it's all too much and there's a dead person lying not too far from them, and maybe he should feel bad that Luke is gone, but all he can think is that the bastard deserved it and—

He can no longer keep the sobs at bay. But when they break out of him, shaking him until he's sure they'll tear his ribcage apart, the pain exploding, Kie is there, holding him.

"Shhhh," she makes. "I got you, John B. I got you …"

* * *

…

* * *

...

JJ's playing with a joint, sitting on a fence not far from the hospital and stares out at the streets when she walks up toward him.

"Sup, Kie?" he says, his arm wrapped around his middle because it still hurts even to speak. They've only just let him go, and while he's grateful, it sucks that John B isn't here with him yet, that his best friend is still back there, in a hospital bed.

His dad truly did a number on them both.

At least no one got in too much trouble for his death. Sure, they all were questioned. But Pope didn't even have to spend a night in jail.

"Hey JJ," Kiara says, then hops onto the fence right next to him.

"How's Pope?"

"Hanging in there."

"Tell him I'm not angry, yeah? For some reason the idiot doesn't believe me."

"It's hard on him too … In different ways."

"Yeah …"

Of course it is. Pope killed a man. JJ's dad. JJ doesn't know what to think of that, but somehow, he knows he'll always be grateful. Only true friends would do what John B, Pope and Kie did for him.

"You okay, JJ?"

He smiles for her as she nudges his side, a frown on her pretty face.

"Yeah, sure."

"You know what 'sure' means …"

"They're gonna keep John B another few days," he deflects. "Put police in front of his door." He makes a face and Kie nods to herself.

"We'll have to talk about this. He'll have to …"

"Don't make him, Kie. Not yet. He's … not ready."

She shoots him a sideways glance, a true smile spreading across her features and his breath catches when he looks at her.

"What?"

"You're sweet, JJ."

He raises an eyebrow. Somehow, her words, her smile make him all warm and fuzzy inside. He's never been called that before ...

"Sweet?"

"I'm glad John B has you … You two, you're awesome friends. What you do for each other ..."

"Only because we have you."

She chuckles, gripping the fence with both hands. He looks away, trying to process the weird feelings whirling inside of him.

"Want some?" he eventually asks, holding out the joint and a lighter, and she lets go of the fence. He thinks it's to grab the joint, but she goes for his hand instead, shaking her head.

"I'd just like to sit here a little while longer. Is that okay?"

He licks his lips, then nods, putting the joint away again.

She can sit here as long as she wants to. He'll stay right by her side. Because when she's around, his demons don't have a chance.


End file.
